Halfway to Nowhere
by Lys
Summary: [AU] When an off-duty cop "rescues" a group-home teen who was the victim of a hate crime, it somehow manages to complicate both their lives beyond anything they could imagine. [TsuHi. 1?]


**Halfway to Nowhere**   
Lys Summers 

An alternate universe fanfiction, started for the Phantom Moon AU contest. 

Part the first, in which we meet two 'mystery' characters (who are soon revealed), a fight occurs, a cop gets pissed, an empath gets a headache, plus the author tries to be subtle, and fails wonderfully. 

-*- 

Footsteps pounding. Heart racing. Everything wavered in his blurry line of vision, the nighttime darkness impenetrable in the pouring rain. The boy was soaked to the bone, bangs a little too long plastered to his forehead, pushed out of his eyes with a shaking hand. Heavy waterlogged clothes slowed his movements, driving the chill of the miserable November day into his bones. 

And still he ran. 

A battered tennis shoe came down on a particularly treacherous section of pavement, sending the thin figure tumbling to the ground. He clutched his knee, jeans now torn open to display the bloodied skin beneath, but the bitter cold had long since numbed the aching of his battered body. He felt nothing. Looking up from his position on the sidewalk he could see only an unchanging expanse of gray; streetlights barely even able to penetrate the gloom. 

_"Where are you? Mom? MOM?!"_

Vivid green eyes snapped shut as a loud crash of thunder sounded overhead, the accompanying bolt of lightning setting off flashes of colour behind his closed lids. He didn't know how long he sat there, slumped against the rough brick of wall of a building, memories threatening to overtake his exhausted mind. 

_"Come back! Please, come back…"_

For what seemed like an eternity he rested there, oblivious to his surroundings, nearly invisible on the barren city streets. 

_"Don't leave me, please…"_

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the boy jerked upright, eyes flying open as his entire posture become rigid with fear. 

_"Please…"_

He started to struggle to his feet, fighting for the power to remain standing, though he still leaned heavily on the wall for a support. He managed a few shaky steps, before he stopped again, flattening himself against the chafing brick, dread evident on pale features for only a moment before the expression was chased off by a mask of indifference. 

They had found him. 

Hisoka had nowhere left to run. 

-*- 

"Two basic students murdered in a yet unsolved crime… Bullshit!" The man fumed, angrily throwing the newspaper down onto the table. He glared down at the offending headline, fingers trembling with suppressed rage. 

Then just as quickly as his temper had flared up, it once again simmered down, and he collapsed bonelessly into the worn armchair behind him, resting his head in hands. After a day of patrolling, to come home and find _this_ sitting on his doorstep… Well, it was frustrating, to say the least. 

He _knew_ the crime had been solved, Hell, he had been one of the officers on the case! But when it came to politics up here…Muttering softly under his breath, the man twined fingers through thin brown strands of hair, eyes closed to block out the large, unnecessarily gory image on the front page. _You'd think after a few decades people would learn to at least_ tolerate_ each other…_ he mused. 

Snorting softly in disbelief, he smiled ruefully. Some things would never change. The gifted would never allow themselves to be on the same level as those who were normal - or "basic," as most so _kindly_ liked to say. And the basics themselves weren't without blame either, really. They just couldn't seem to overcome the bitterness of the class barrier that came with certain… talents. 

Standing up and stretching, the man's eyes flickered to the clock hung above the television; it was nearly eleven, but he needed to get out of the suffocating atmosphere in his apartment. Walking to the door and grabbing his coat, he smiled as locked the door of behind him. It wasn't like anyone would have the guts to pick a fight with him, anyways. 

Hurrying down the stairs he soon reached the exit and set off down the dark street, walking with purpose though he really had no destination in mind. He felt a few drops of rain hit his exposed face, and turned violet eyes to the sky, taking in the gathering clouds. It was just his luck. 

Well, he was already out now. A little rain never killed anyone. 

Tsuzuki just kept on walking. 

-*- 

"What's the matter, _freak_, why'd you run? I guess you're too good to play with us, huh?" 

Hisoka glared at the small group of boys surrounding him in a semi-circle, his own back still pressed to the brick wall. "Why don't you just back off?" he spat, fists clenching at his sides. "You've had your fun. I think it's about time you ran along home to your parents - it's past your bedtime, I'm sure they're worried." 

One of the boy's arms shot forward, grabbing Hisoka's shirt and lifting him off the ground slightly, slamming him hard against the wall. "Like you'd know anything about parents, you group home _freak_!" He snarled. "Too bad _your_ parents didn't realize you'd be mingling with us _basic_ folk when they threw you out on your sorry little ass. You weren't good enough for them, but you like to seem to think you're too good for us - you've got too much attitude, pretty boy. We don't like that." 

"I'm not a freak!" Hisoka snapped, struggling against his attacker - he couldn't place him by name, but knew he was one of the so-called "thugs" from his school. "And I'm not gifted either - I've told you a million times, but obviously it hasn't sunk into your thick skull." 

"My ass you're not." Came the sharp retort, as well as the shock of being dropped back to the ground. No sooner was he released, however, then a rough hand grasped his chin, tilting his head up to look at the taller boy, who's lackeys were looming a short distance behind him. "You're damn _pretty_, freak," He hissed, leaning in close and stifling Hisoka with breath that smelt strongly of stale alcohol. "And there's no mistaking those eyes. Maybe you weren't good enough for _them_, but you'll never be _normal_." 

Hisoka gasped, the close contact sending his mind reeling. 

_"Mother, why are you sad? What's wrong?"_

_"Not normal, you're just like him… Your eyes - oh god, but you're his son!"_

"Don't like the sound of that, do you, pretty freak?" The whisper was right beside Hisoka's ear; his struggles were rendered useless, pinned between the wall and his nameless attacker. Didn't know him, didn't want to know - it hurt so much less if it was a stranger. "Those two boys that died, it was your kind that did it to them. Don't you see that we couldn't just let you go? Everyone knows what you are, and all your denial won't change a thing. We all hate you - you're one of _them._

_"I can't Hisoka - I can't take it, you're just like him!"_

"NO!" He burst out, using strength born of desperation to shove the other boy backwards into his gang. He was panting hard, mind muddled and confused, green eyes luminescent in the rain. "I'm not, I didn't ask for this…" 

Hisoka tried to move, but his shaking legs refused to support him, and he tumbled to the ground. He skittered backwards, scraping his palms against the concrete in his haste. But it was no use - they were closing in, so close to him now… 

"Fuck off!" He yelled, grasping at vulgarities to cover his terror, a burning hatred seeping into his mind, dulling his senses. "Just leave me the hell alone! I didn't ask for this!" 

"Oh, but you did," chided the ringleader, his smile calm and cold and completely without humor. "You'll regret this, freak." He murmured, crouching down to look the disoriented teen in the face. "You fucked up big time, messing with us. I think it's high time we sent a message back to your people - although I don't think the heartless bastards will really care if we kill the messenger." 

-*- 

By the time twenty minutes had gone by, the light sprinkling of rain had turned into a torrential downpour, and Tsuzuki's trench coat was doing very little to keep him dry. Pulling his collar a little higher he looked around, noting just how far he had actually wandered from his apartment. He was well into 'The Dodge' - the gray area that stretched between the gifted and basic suburbs. It wasn't usually a safe place to be - with inter-class relations being strained at best, these city blocks were little better than a war zone. Tonight, however, the streets were basically deserted; which was no surprise, considering the inclement weather. 

Tsuzuki was just about to turn around and head home when a sick feeling of dread began to pull at the edge of his awareness. Frowning slightly he looked around, but as far as he could see in the gray haze, he was alone… 

A sudden spike of pure terror struck him, and this time Tsuzuki understood. No one could project like that except an empath - but what the hell would one be doing in the Dodge at this time of night? Starting to move faster, Tsuzuki kept along his current path; if he hadn't gotten wind of this until now, they had to be further ahead. 

He jogged through the darkened streets, the emotions gathering strength as he went further along. He was too afraid to raise his shields for fear that he might block out the desperate emotional cry for help, though it was growing stronger by the second. He had been moving closer for quite some time and his curiosity was nearly eating him alive - just who the hell in this city had the power to project that far? 

In a few short moments the feelings were finally so overwhelming that Tsuzuki had to raise his mental walls - the sheer intensity of the projection was dizzying. He had to be close; with the mental link cut off Tsuzuki fell back to instincts honed from five years of working with the police force. Sticking close to the wall and peering cautiously into alleyways, Tsuzuki crept forward for nearly a full minute before he came across the focus of his search. 

He stood barely ten feet from the small group, but the driving rain made it difficult to make out any details, let alone hear a thing. Abandoning any semblance of stealth, Tsuzuki calmly strode towards the target, the situation becoming clear as drew closer. Down on the ground was a boy - seventeen at most, features indistinguishable with his hair plastered down and clothes soaked by rain, and before him knelt a considerably larger male, possibly eighteen, backed by four more of similar build. Their attention was so riveted on the first two boys that they didn't even notice Tsuzuki behind them, absorbing all the details, calculating before he made his move. 

The kid was obviously overwhelmed, and if he was Tsuzuki's mystery empath then there was little question as to why - saying his personal space was being invaded would be quite the understatement. He was obviously being threatened, and when the apparent leader of the small gang reached out to grab him by the throat, Tsuzuki decided that he had seen enough. 

"Hate to interrupt kids," he said striding forward, gaining the attention and incredulous stares of the youths. "But I think play time's over." 

-*- 

This concludes scenes one through four. 

The author will do her best to put a part out roughly every week, so please do not hesitate to kick her if she falls behind. For sneek peeks of scenes and unfinished bits, she urges you to check out her fic-log, @ www.livejournal.com/~lysmichelle. 

For the curious, the title Halfway to Nowhere refers to **The Dodge**. Beware, the author is fond of symbolism and archetypes! 

Thanks for reading. 


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